


Living Art

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-05
Updated: 2009-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-04 08:09:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1771885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean does his best work when he's distracted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living Art

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Daily Deviant's June 2009 challenge. 
> 
> **Themes/kinks chosen** : Body Painting
> 
> **Author's notes** : I'm not sure where this bunny came from, but one mustn't argue with the muse, right? Thanks, as always, to Sevfan for looking this over for me.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.

~

Living Art

~

When the knock finally came, Dean inspected his reflection in the mirror before making his way to the front door. He was nervous, despite the fact that he really shouldn’t have been. _She’s just a friend,_ he reminded himself for the fifth time since her owl. _She’s just being Luna._

‘Being Luna’, though, meant being luminous. When Dean opened the door, he actually froze for a second before breathing. She looked fabulous, even better than she had before leaving for her year in the wilderness. 

He cleared his throat. “Hey, Luna, come in. It’s good to see you. I was surprised to hear from you. I thought you were abroad. That’s what Ginny said the last time I asked about you, not that I ask that much, but I do like to keep tabs on my friends...” _I’m babbling._ Dean clamped his mouth shut and stepped aside to let Luna in. As she drifted past him, she pressed her lips to his cheek, and a light floral scent wafted over him. He inhaled discreetly before closing the door and following her inside.

Dean was proud of his flat. He’d made the utmost use of wizard’s space to make a loft area. One whole wall looked solid to Muggles but was actually floor to ceiling windows. It resulted in a bright, airy living room. He did his most creative work there. 

Luna seemed to approve. As she walked, her hand trailed over the surfaces of his furniture. When she turned to face him, she was smiling. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch recently,” she said. “But Father had me researching Nargle infestations in Romania. I got back last night.” 

Dean blinked. “And I’m the first person you’re visiting since you’ve returned? I’m honoured.” Moving past her, he gestured towards the sofa. “Have a seat. Would you like some tea?”

“I’d love some.” 

Dean busied himself making the tea, unable to resist stealing small glances at her. It had been ages since he’d had a woman in his flat; his last girlfriend, a Muggle, hadn’t taken the news of the existence of magic well. He’d been forced to Obliviate her, and after that he’d decided to stick to witches. Hard to do, though, when he only wanted one witch. _And here’s your chance,_ his traitorous libido reminded him.

Shaking his head, he placed some biscuits on a plate. He’d always had a huge crush on Luna. For several years at Hogwarts he’d watched her from afar, drawing pictures of her whenever possible, taking great pains to hide the doodles. Inevitably, Seamus had spotted them, and had threatened to tell her. Dean had almost got up the courage to ask her out then, but he’d been thwarted by the war. While running for one’s life, small things like crushes tended to get pushed to the wayside. By the time Harry had dealt with Voldemort and things had settled down, Luna had been off on assignments for her mad father.

_But she’s back now._ Exhaling, Dean poured the boiling water into the teapot, covering the tea leaves. Placing the pot, a couple of cups and the ginger biscuits on a tray, he levitated everything towards the sofa. 

“Biscuit?” he offered. 

She smiled. “I’d love one.” Leaning forward, she took one and began nibbling. 

After the tea was poured and she’d taken a sip, Dean drew himself back from contemplating the curve of her jaw. “So how long are you back for?” he asked. 

“I think I’m back for a while this time,” she said. “Father is concerned about Nigglebugs in London, so I told him I’d help track them here.” 

Dean smiled. “He’s lucky to have you.” 

After taking a sip of the tea, she hummed, blinking slowly at him, and Dean had to tear his gaze from her lips. “So, um, how can I help you?” he asked. “Your owl said you had a project that you need some help with.” 

Luna nodded. “I do. Are you going to Hermione’s fancy dress party tonight?” she asked. The way she was looking at him, through her lashes, made something clench in his gut. 

He actually hadn’t planned on it. “Maybe.” He cleared his throat. “I haven’t come up with a costume yet, though.” He shrugged. “I don’t really like costumes.” 

“Oh.” She stared at him; it almost felt as if she was staring _through_ him, and he shifted. “That’s a shame. I’ve always thought you’d look wonderful as Puck.” 

Dean absorbed that for a minute. “You’ve picked out fancy dress costumes for me?” 

She smiled. “I used to get bored sometimes in class, so I would pass the time imagining people in costumes.”

“Of course.” Dean chuckled. Really, nothing about this woman should surprise him. 

“Well, that’s what I need help with.” She tilted her head. “I thought I’d go to the party as a wood sprite.” 

Dean nodded, his artist’s brain kicking in. “You’d be a perfect sprite.” His eyes narrowed as he began to contemplate colours. “Blues and greens for you, I think. Have you chosen fabric yet?” 

“No.” She took another biscuit. “I don’t think sprites like fabric, actually. D’you think I should ask one?” 

“Er, maybe not.” Dean’s throat was dry and he realised he’d not yet had any tea. He took a large sip just as Luna spoke again. 

“Anyway, I want you to paint my costume on me.” 

Tea spewed across the table, narrowly missing Luna. “Shit! I’m sorry!” 

She waved him off. “It’s okay, none of it hit me.” She waved her hand, clearing the mess before saying, “Nargles are everywhere. So, will you do it?”

Dean, wiping his mouth, blinked. “Do what? Paint your costume on you? As in, directly on you?” 

“Um hm.” She gestured at herself. “On my skin. The paint will be my costume, you see? And, it also serves to keep the Wrackspurts away.” She leaned close. “They hate paint.” 

“Er, right.” Bemused, Dean shook his head. “You should know that I’ve never painted directly on a person before, Luna.” 

“Oh, you’ll do fine. I’ve some pictures.” Pulling a folder out of her robes, she handed them to him. “See?”

Dean glanced at the pictures then did a double take. The work was intricate, beautiful, and the people looked like living art. He stared, tilting one of the photos. It did seem as if the person was naked, but it wasn’t that obvious at first glance. He bit his lip. The technique looked fascinating. _I wonder if I could use wizarding paint to make the pattern move?_

“So what do you think?” 

Dean glanced over at Luna, curled up on his sofa. She had toed off her shoes and Dean found himself fascinated by her toes and the arch of her feet. His eyes moved up only to see...

Dean gulped. “Luna, what are you doing?” 

Luna had already removed her robes and was unbuttoning her shirt. “I’m showing you where I want you to paint,” she said, standing up to shimmy out of her knickers before finally slipping off her bra. “You’ll do better with practice.”

Dean, unable to help himself, gave her the once-over. _God, she’s fantastic._ “Luna--”

She traced a line with her finger from her left nipple to her right hip. “A line of leaves here, I think,” she said, voice sounding thoughtful. “I like your idea of blue, so maybe some blue flowers through here?” She ran her fingers through the light dusting of blonde hair that covered her cunt. “I think I’ll have to shave, though.” 

“I... That would be best, yes,” Dean choked out, voice raspy.

“I’m not sure about here.” She was now circling her right nipple and with a groan, Dean licked his lips and stood up. 

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” he asked. 

She smiled. “I’m providing you with a canvas,” she said. “Do you have body paints?”

He grinned. “As a matter of fact, I do. This will be my first time to try them out. Stay here.” He dashed into his studio, Summoning paint, brushes and his painting smock.

“Oh I like this room.” 

He glanced towards the door where Luna -- _still naked!_ \-- his mind supplied, was standing. “Let’s do it here.”

“Do it?” Dean was sure his lack of intellect was due to the rush of blood from his head to other areas. 

“Yes. We should practice painting my costume.” Drifting over to the centre of the room, Luna lay down on her back. “This looks like a good spot.” Stretching her arms over her head, she smiled. “Shall we get started?”

Dean shook his head. “I...suppose so.” 

The first brush stroke was the most difficult. Dean’s hand trembled as he made the first mark. The green paint shimmered in the light, and as he outlined the first leaf, he calmed, the familiar action of painting making him relax. Not enough to forget that he was creating art on a woman’s body, however. The body of a gorgeous woman who he’d had a crush on for years...

“It tickles,” Luna murmured, her breath gusting along his cheek. “I think my nipple likes that.”

Apparently it did, since it was hard. It was all Dean could do not to lean over and suckle her--

“You like my nipple,” she continued, and later Dean would swear she’d arched her back, since it moved closer somehow.

“I--”

“I think we should have sex now,” she interrupted, sounding for all the world as if she’d suggested they have more tea. 

“You-- What?” Dean’s hand was trembling again. He moved it away. “Excuse me?” 

She sat up on her elbows, the movement bringing his lips ever closer to her chest. “You’re very arousing, Dean. I’ve always thought that, actually.”

“You--”

“Don’t you want to have sex?” She sighed, the action making her breasts move enticingly. “I really think it will help us both concentrate better--”

Giving up trying to make sense of the situation, Dean placed his brush down, cast a Stasis Charm on it to preserve the paint, and straddled her. “Concentrate, hm?” Leaning down, he allowed his hands to cup her breasts, his thumbs to circle her nipples. The green paint smudged. 

Her head tilted back. “Mm, yes. You don’t think so?” 

“I’m beginning to,” he murmured, dipping his head and sucking a kiss into the long line of her neck. One of her arms encircled his neck and one of his splayed on her back, pulling her closer. “I’ve a bed. That may be more comfortable.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s very nice,” she said, her head coming back up. She kissed his cheek. “I like this spot, though.” 

“Yeah, okay.” Far be it for him to argue. 

He laid her flat, shifting just long enough to throw aside his painting smock. Luna helped him remove his t-shirt and then proceeded to distract him by running her hands over his chest. “Luna,” he groaned when she began tracing the outline of his cock with her finger. 

“You have a nice penis.” Her eyes darted up to his and she licked her lips. “It’s good we’re doing this,” she continued, a smile flirting along her lips. She drew one of his hands to her. “I think I’m too wet to paint.”

“Fuck,” he moaned, a finger slipping into her. 

“You don’t agree?” By this point she had undone his jeans and had pulled them and his pants down over his hips.

“I do agree,” he gasped. “I really, really do.” Somehow he managed to drag the last of his clothes off until finally he, too, was naked. Settling between her legs, he clasped her hips in his hands. “Are you sure--?”

“Oh yes,” she whispered, clutching his shoulders. “Please? If we don’t, this will be far too distracting.”

He laughed softly, the sound dying as he slid into her. “Oh fuck, Luna,” he whispered, shifting his hips as he stretched to kiss her. “You feel--”

She wrapped her legs around him and arched upwards. “Full,” she sighed. “Very nice.”

“Are you all right?” Dean asked, tracing the curve of her jaw with his tongue. 

“Oh yes. Although--”

With effort, Dean stopped moving. Was he hurting her? “Although?”

“I’m not going to break, you know.” She nibbled his earlobe. “You really can fuck me properly.” 

It was as if her words had unleashed him. With a growl, he tucked his face into her neck, tilted her hips up, and fucked her with sure, firm strokes. Her heels were digging into the back of his knees, her nails into his shoulders, and it all felt fabulous.

Dean knew he wasn’t going to last. He sped up his thrusts, and when her muscles began to ripple around him, coaxing his orgasm from him, he moaned her name, and came. 

It took a few moments for him to regain his senses and when he did, he rolled off her, panting. “Oh God, that was brilliant,” he managed.

She hummed. “Very nice,” she agreed. Stretching, she said, “Do you think you can manage the body painting now?”

Leaning up on an elbow, he gazed at her flushed body. “Maybe,” he murmured, an idea forming. _May as well do it all since she’s here..._ “Although I think one more thing will help me to...focus.” 

“Really? What do you m-- Oh! Mmm--” 

Dean, his head already between her legs, smiled as her words dissolved into inarticulate whispers punctuated by gasps. He lapped at her clit, savouring the way their flavours had co-mingled. Each time her hand clenched in his hair, he pulled back for a moment until she lifted her hips, wordlessly encouraging him to continue. 

With lips, fingers, and tongue, Dean managed to coax a second and then a third orgasm from her, and when she was trembling in the aftermath, he finally raised his head, grinning at her.

“You’re very good at that,” she panted as he stretched out next to her. 

He chuckled. “Thank you.” 

She turned her head. “So, do you think you can paint my costume now?” 

Dean pursed his lips. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to paint a costume on you without being distracted,” he admitted. 

She smiled. “That’s all right. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go to the party anyway. I _am_ just back from abroad, after all. I do need to rest.” She closed her eyes. “This floor is nice.” 

“The floor in my bedroom’s even nicer,” Dean whispered. “Plus, it’s close to my bed which is really comfortable. You could...try it.”

She yawned. “That does sound promising.” 

“I’ll even throw in coffee in the morning,” he offered, hoping he wasn’t moving too fast. 

She smiled, eyes still closed. “I do love coffee. Will there be more of those ginger biscuits?”

Dean smiled, shifting and pulling her head onto his shoulder. “I guarantee it.” 

~


End file.
